


the girl dreams in technicolor

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Category: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the girl dreams in technicolor

**Author's Note:**

> So this started with this crazy idea where Cosima tells Delphine she wants to forget everything. 
> 
> With great thanks to my beta [greywing](http://morningmightcomebyaccident.tumblr.com), who was gracious enough to lend me a few ideas. Thank you. 
> 
> And to you who followed the seemingly hopeless snippets on Tumblr, my heartfelt thanks.

 

1 | cosima

It is dark when Cosima wakes and her head feels heavy, like it had just been filled with lead.

She finds the answer upon turning on her side: Right on the bedside table, a half-empty bottle of rum. _Hangover,_ she concludes, pushing herself out of bed. She doesn't remember what day it is -- it's one of those mornings that she wakes with a somewhat blank slate.

 _These days just bleed into one another, don't they,_ she just thinks.

*

When Cosima catches herself in the mirror, she feels a little startled -- like she were seeing herself for the first time. _What a strange hangover,_ she thinks, touching the mirror's surface before blinking.

It feels like another person's _face_ \-- like she's seen it before elsewhere, and not on this mirror, and _What was in that rum, exactly, and why were we drinking that much, again?_

And then, catching herself: _We?_

Cosima shakes her head, splashing cold water onto her face a final time before picking her lighter off the sink and going out.

*

The morning has this odd feel to it -- all too quiet and still, like nobody's _home._ The street is empty, save for a car parked at a faraway corner, and even that felt empty as well. _Well, all right then,_ she thinks, sitting on the steps and lighting up.

The cough bubbles up her throat immediately, almost choking her, and she wheezes for a couple of minutes before stabilizing.

 _Shit_ , she thinks, holding her cigarette at arm's length. _This stuff is fucking strong._ Cosima looks around before taking another hit and coughing again, harder this time that she actually decides to drop the cigarette and crush it underfoot.

*

When she gets to the lab, it is dark and the main door is locked. A piece of paper is taped to the window, and it says the facility is closed until further notice. Cosima finds it weird. _This never happens_ , she thinks. _Or has it?_

Earlier on the way over she found herself stopping and considering her path, thinking: _Is this the way?_ She knows she's been here more than a hundred times, but this day has just been so _off-kilter,_ and, _Where is everyone, anyway?_

Cosima's head starts throbbing.

_Has there been an apocalypse?  And why has no one told me?_

2 | delphine 

Delphine follows on foot. She's been waiting in her car since the procedure ended just before sunrise, and though she literally hasn't slept at all, she feels more awake than anything. _Must be all that Red Bull,_ she thinks idly, waiting for Cosima to turn the corner before moving.

For the most part, Delphine is surprised that Cosima is already _awake_ to begin with; watching her from two streets away, she wonders whether the operation was successful at all. Even from afar, she can see how Cosima looks tired -- like she's spent all night running (and she very well could have) -- but oh, how beautiful in this early morning light.

 _Focus, Cormier,_ she chides herself. When Cosima makes the first wrong turn, Delphine's worry is confirmed. She imagines how Cosima's memory must be now -- perhaps like a chess board with more squares blacked out than usual. _I'm so sorry,_ she finds herself whispering, waiting for Cosima to turn back around upon realizing her error.

 _Some of the easy details will be hazy in the beginning,_ she remembers Mierzwiak saying, _But in the end, we are hoping the procedure has been as accurate as possible._

 _As accurate as possible._ There's a twinge in Delphine's chest as she remembers what that means. _Dr Mierzwiak_ \-- _Albert, please_ , she had begged. _There has to be a way_.

She remembers him shaking his head, leaning back into his seat. _It's impossible, Delphine_. She remembers how he'd motioned toward the monitor, at the shadows his fingertips made against the glass surface as they traced the firing synapses scattering on the screen. _You're everywhere, and I cannot isolate you._

Delphine remembers frowning, trying not to imagine herself disintegrating in Cosima's head. _I was here, once._ She stood behind Mierzwiak through most of the operation, watching. _No, we're not having one of your interns do it,_ she'd insisted.

The first few hours, Mierzwiak let her hold Cosima's hand. _Well, it would make things easier,_ Mierzwiak had said. _Easier? For what?_ When Mierzwiak looked at her, he didn't really have to say anything else.

On the monitor, Cosima's brain was nothing but a black-and-white map, dots and lines flashing and disappearing.

*

Delphine left at three, her eyelids heavy. She'd been steadily going through Cosima's bottle of rum while watching the entire procedure, and by the fourth hour, her face had grown numb. She'd gone out on the pretense that she was buying some Red Bull, but she never really made it back; she couldn't get herself past the doorstep to Cosima's apartment anymore.

Albert Mierzwiak called her around five. _It is done._

She cried till six-thirty. Folded unto herself atop the hood of her car, she let herself be wrecked.

*

Delphine watches as Cosima touches the lab's closed door. The closure was Albert's idea: I _t helps if the subject gets distracted from routine for a while._ But with Cosima's face turned away from her, Delphine can't be sure what exactly Cosima’s reaction means. _Distraction, routine. How much is left? How much has been spirited away?_

When Cosima turns around, she catches Delphine off-guard and _looking_.

 _If she recognizes you,_ saidAlbert on the phone, _We'll have to do everything over. You are the locus of memory. Do you understand that?_

Delphine holds her breath. The lack of sleep has slowed her down; she should have done better, yet she hasn't. Instead she is here, rooted to her spot, letting the exhaustion of the past 48 hours stay on her face, procedures be damned. _Please, Cosima_ , she thinks. Truth be told though, Delphine does not know what she is praying for.

Cosima blinks. "Can I help you?" she's asking, and Delphine cannot decide whether to laugh or cry.

*

3 | cosima

"Can I help you?" Cosima eyes the woman with a mix of wariness and relief. _Finally, though,_ she thinks, _At least the place isn't deserted after all._ "Do I know you from somewhere?"

It takes a moment for the woman to reply, like Cosima had startled her too horribly. _That, or perhaps, it_ is _too early for conversation._ Cosima begins with, "I'm sorry--"

"It's all right," the woman replies, sighing as she pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Cosima watches as she fiddles with it. Watching her restless hands, Cosima tries to place the woman's accent.

"You're French," she points out, before laughing. "Sorry. I don't usually--it's not the usual thing I say to strangers. Have I offended you?"

"Not at all," says the woman, a cigarette now between her fingertips. "Please. Delphine," she says, smiling weakly as she offers the pack to Cosima, like she would a handshake. And then, off the question on Cosima's face: "Jet lag. Long flight."

"Oh," Cosima replies, sliding a cigarette out in kind. She follows Delphine quietly as they step out into the open and Delphine finally offers a light. Delphine's cigarette is surprisingly smooth; the first hit goes down Cosima's throat without a scratch. "This is really good," she says, grinning.

"Which is why I like sharing it," says Delphine. The way she smiles is familiar and it nags at Cosima for a while. "Would you know why the lab is closed?"

Cosima's eyes widen at that. "You're a student here?"

Delphine smiles, looking away. “Just visiting a friend,” she says. In her head, Cosima goes, _Of course. For all I know, you probably have all these degrees and doctorates under your hood. Or belt. Or whatever, where do people place their degrees, anyway?_

“Is everything all right?” asks Delphine, brows creased. “Would you rather--were you busy?”

“No!” says Cosima, voice louder than usual. “No,” she repeats, calmer this time around. For someone who hasn’t had coffee, she feels unusually awake around Delphine, this inexplicable lightness brimming in her chest. “Just that -- I don’t know why the lab is closed today.” She scratches her head lightly with her cigarette-holding hand, letting the smoke get to her eyes for a moment. She blinks the tears away as her eyes start watering. “Sorry. It’s been a very weird morning.”

“All mornings are weird before breakfast,” Delphine offers, and right on cue Cosima feels her stomach grumble.

“True,” she agrees, taking a last drag from her cigarette before putting it out. The smoke leaves her lips coolly out the corner of her mouth. “I’m so hungry; I feel like I’ve been running all night _in my sleep_.”

Delphine laughs, touching Cosima’s arm lightly for a moment before pulling away, fingers detaching from Cosima’s skin slowly, like the gesture were deliberate. _Too early in the morning for this, Cos,_ she reminds herself.

“That doesn’t seem safe,” says Delphine, fresh unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of her lip. It wags as she speaks, and Cosima tries hard not to stare. “I mean -- to do all that running while you’re sleeping, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Cosima repeats dumbly. “This way then.” She turns one way, trying to remember the shortest path to the nearest cafe. _Something was in that rum,_ she thinks, before turning the other way. Delphine only smiles at her politely, following her both ways.

“As I’ve said,” Cosima tries explaining, hands everywhere. “It’s been a very strange morning.”

“I’ve had stranger ones,” Delphine just says, walking after her.

*

4 | delphine

 _Breathe,_ Delphine reminds herself, finally getting around to lighting her cigarette. She watches as Cosima figures out the path from the lab to the cafe, trying her best to keep quiet. It’s like watching a mouse run a maze -- Delphine _knows_ this place, but can’t tell Cosima exactly where to go or how.

What should have been a five-minute walk takes twenty. Delphine thinks about Mierzwiak and margins of error, remembering that time she first saw him in Leekie’s office. ( _This is Dr. Mierzwiak,_ Leekie had said, _And he’s going to blow your mind. Literally._ Mierzwiak only laughed, and how very nervously. _Aldous, please._ And then, to her: _Call me Albert._ )

Cosima turns to her with a soft, “Aha!” and it’s enough to bring Delphine back. “See? Sorry that took a while.” She’s smiling when she turns to Delphine. “Whatever; let’s just pretend this is my first time here as well, and that excuses getting lost and things.” Delphine bites her lip at that; she's helplessly stuck at _let's just pretend._ "Sorry--you're not from around here, and you could use a tour guide with better memory--"

"No, that's not it at all," Delphine's quick to say, reaching out and wrapping a hand around Cosima's wrist; old habits die hard, isn't that what they all say? Something flickers in Cosima's eye for a moment -- Delphine is torn between wishing she remembers and wishing she forgets.

"Well then," Cosima says, relaxing into Delphine's hold. _What does this mean?_ Delphine thinks. Cosima's eyes are unreadable; it's frustrating. _But we've worked so hard toward discovering everything._ Cosima pulls her into the café, toward one of the booths and seats her.

"Tell me about you," Cosima says, settling into the seat across Delphine.

In her head, Delphine hears Mierzwiak saying, _We are hoping the procedure will be accurate._ She'd shared this hope, once. _This is what she wanted,_ she tells herself, looking at Cosima smiling at the menu. The word that strikes her is _pure,_ and all of it aches, all at once. It makes Delphine want to scream.

*

Delphine chooses another cover story entirely -- she and Leekie had prepared four, before she’d been sent to Cosima. It makes her sick; she couldn't have picked a more horrible time to use one of the three left, but then again, there isn't much of a choice here, is there?

"So you're visiting a friend?" Cosima fiddles with her fork and does not look up from her plate. "Tell me about him."

Delphine’s eyes widen at that, amused at Cosima’s assumption. "Well," she begins, breathing in and biting down on her lip hard. She doesn't want to do this. " _She's_ into… science and things."

Cosima laughs. "Science and things are nice." She looks at Delphine over the rim of her cup, and it oddly feels like Cosima is _undressing_ her, and seeing through this newly put-on coat--

"I didn't say they weren't," Delphine tries laughing along. Of all four made up personalities, this was the one she felt was furthest from who she really was, and right now it feels like she's trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. "I just--I don't want to talk about science."

 _Words and wounds,_ is all Delphine can think about, feeling them chafing her tongue on the way out.

"You're the one who brought it up," says Cosima, still grinning at her. _Oh, are you still there, somewhere?_ Delphine wants to know. This light makes her want to touch Cosima's face; the urge puts an itch onto her fingertips, and she catches herself rubbing against the table's edges, like a cat in heat.

"Anyway--won't your friend mind?"

Delphine sighs. "No," she says, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think she knows I'm here."

Cosima tilts her head, eyes narrowed. "Ah," she says, lowering her coffee cup upon the table. "A _surprise_."

"You could say that," Delphine says, trying to keep smiling.

*

Surprisingly, Cosima doesn't talk too much. Contrary to expectations, Cosima doesn’t fire off a litany of questions right away; many times, Delphine catches her simply looking away, staring at a blank spot on the wall. It dawns on Delphine now, how she had braced herself for an intense interrogation that is not coming, or at least, not anytime soon.

"Sorry," says Cosima, chewing on the final bit of pancake left on her plate. "I'm crashing, and I don't know why. I just feel so _tired_."

Delphine thinks about reaching over and touching Cosima's wrist on the table. _Oh, fuck it,_ she figures, going ahead and placing two fingers upon it, like she were feeling for Cosima's pulse. "You should probably head home," she says. "Can you manage?"

Cosima sits back, stretching before knotting both hands behind her head, arm sliding from right underneath Delphine's fingertips; Delphine tries not to let out an all-too-audible gasp at the sight this makes. "Nah," Cosima says. "I probably just need to smoke."

Delphine grins, remembering a Cosima from a _lifetime_ ago. _I'm going to get you so baked._ She still remembers the hoarseness there all too fondly that she almost grabs at her chest. _These things just come at me from nowhere, it seems._ She slips her hand into a pocket before sliding out her worn pack of cigarettes. "Here," she says, pushing the pack across the table. "Wake yourself up."

Cosima smiles, slipping a stick out of the pack. "Gladly."

Nicotine does wake her up, to a degree; standing right outside the cafe, Cosima starts talking with her hands in the air. "It's like I woke up and my mind was a blank slate or something," she tells Delphine, who tries her best to mask the relief on her face. _This is supposed to be a good thing, isn't it,_ she comforts herself. "Like I should be doing something, only I can't remember what."

"Maybe it's stress," Delphine offers, blowing smoke to the side. The sun grows hotter as they approach midday, and Delphine can feel her hair sticking to her nape under the growing heat. "Maybe you should take a day and get away." And then, "The sun looks nice, no?"

Cosima smiles, squinting against the light. "Am I sensing a proposal here?"

Biting down on her lip, Delphine looks away as she says, "Maybe."

*

"Now your friend would _really_ mind," Cosima says, sliding into the front seat alongside Delphine.

Delphine reaches over and pulls the seatbelt across Cosima's body, and Cosima pushes her hand away with a small laugh. “I’m not a child,” Cosima says. Her smile looks tired. Delphine brushes gently against Cosima everywhere -- shoulders, hands, lap -- watching Cosima's face closely, like she's waiting for her to remember something at any moment.

 _Get a grip,_ she tells herself, turning the ignition on.

"Why are you really here, Delphine?" is what Cosima asks next.

 _You really don't remember, do you,_ she almost asks back. "As I've said, I was just visiting," she replies instead, though the way she smiles at Cosima this time says something like, _Let's start over with different questions._

"But then you decided you do not want to talk about science," Cosima says. There's a playful lilt to the way she says it, and it's almost like she's an entirely different person. Delphine finds herself swallowing hard at that. "What do _you_ want to talk about?"

 _This is it,_ Delphine thinks, remembering this person she _could have been_ , the first time around. "I don't know," she shrugs, lowering her window and putting a cigarette in her mouth. "Tell me a story. Any story."

*

5 | cosima

What frightens Cosima is that she doesn't know Delphine, but something about her makes Cosima want to tell her everything. Not that Cosima has secrets -- or at least, not that she has secrets a woman like Delphine would be interested in. Sitting there in this stranger's car, Cosima feels impossibly naïve. _Where has this woman been, and what else has she seen of the world? Of everything?_

"All my stories are boring," says Cosima. "And science-y, maybe. I'd bore you to death."

"Try me," Delphine says, a cigarette-holding hand hanging out the window. It all just makes her painfully _attractive_ , and it's almost too much for Cosima, all too soon.

"Ask a question," Cosima challenges.

"All right," says Delphine, throwing her a sideways glance. Cosima feels like she's seeing Delphine for the first time _again_ \-- behind the wheel, she seems incredibly… _grown_. And old. "Where were you last night?"

 _Last night._ Cosima tries to remember past her hangover, and all she finds is this embarrassing black patch. _Really, Niehaus?_ she asks herself, frustrated. It won't be the first time her memory's _this_ shot -- time and again, she’s told herself to go easy on the alcohol.

"Out with… friends," she continues, tentatively. _Since we're already on the subject of inventing lives and stories,_ she thinks, and right then she is struck with a brilliant idea which involves overwriting herself for the sake of this blank slate that is Delphine. "It was a pretty wild night." A pause. _Was it?_ "I suppose."

Delphine laughs. "You suppose?"

"Yeah," Cosima shrugs, reaching for Delphine's pack of cigarettes right on the dashboard. "Topless dancing women, lots of alcohol, lines of coke, that sort of thing. And oh, _really_ loud music."

"Really," says Delphine, her tone laced with what Cosima senses to be disbelief.

Cosima sits back, lighting her cigarette and lowering her window in kind. For a moment, she just watches Delphine driving and thinking _, I have no idea where we're going_. And then _, I don't really care_. "Really," she says, after a while. Delphine clears her throat, disguising her laugh underneath an ill-timed cough. "All right, I'm horrible at this _inventing_ thing."

"Inventing thing, huh," Delphine repeats as Cosima watches the road. They haven't gone far, that much she's sure; but then, none of these roads seem familiar _at all_. "You don’t remember last night at all, do you?" asks Delphine, the ribbing suddenly out of her tone.

 _Even Delphine can see it; I'm that transparent._ "What can I say? It was _that_ wild," she says instead.

"You don't seem the type though."

"What do you mean I'm _not_ the type?"

Delphine shrugs, taking a drag off her cigarette before dropping it. Smoke fills the car for a moment and Cosima breathes in deep. _And even there, a familiar sweetness._ Cosima tries to shrug it off as nonsense. _Don't be silly; you've never been with this woman before._

"You seem very-- _together_ , is all," she says. "Not the sort who'd black out after an entire night of partying."

"Are you implying I'm a _square_ , Delphine?" Cosima teases. Delphine laughs, the warm sound filling her car, before reaching over to touch Cosima's arm affectionately.

"Does that offend you?" she asks, hand settling upon Cosima's wrist. When Delphine takes her eyes off the road for a moment to look Cosima in the eye, it floods Cosima with an all-too comfortable feeling whose familiarity Cosima cannot completely deny.

_Have we been here before? No, don't be silly Cos, you met her this morning._

"Not really," Cosima manages, recovering. "But it frustrates me that I cannot even _pretend_ to be a cooler person."

Delphine looks at Cosima like she wants to touch Cosima's face, and for a moment there, it feels like Delphine almost will. Almost. Instead, Delphine pulls back her hand to hold onto the steering wheel tighter. It disappoints Cosima, but only slightly.

"I have no doubts as to your coolness," Delphine says, her eyes back on the road. "If it's any consolation."

"Now you're just patronizing me," Cosima says back, grinning. Delphine just laughs and laughs. When Cosima looks at the road in kind, she sees the entire day ahead, all sun and wind and easy banter.

Cosima tries to remember the last time it was _this_ easy. She remembers nothing.

*

They're sitting on the hood of Delphine's car and staring off a bluff when it happens -- Delphine is in the middle of a rather spirited retelling of her experience feeding ducks during a trip to Melbourne when she was younger when Cosima just finds herself utterly hypnotized by the sight of Delphine's moving lips.

It prompts Delphine to ask: "Are you all right, Cosima?"

Cosima blinks. _Shit._ "I'm so sorry," she blurts out, pulling her glasses off her face; a nervous habit more than anything. "That was rude, I didn't mean to--"

"Hey." Delphine takes Cosima's hands, cradling them, both palms up. "It's all right."

Cosima shakes her head slowly; the gesture feels heavy, like everything is suddenly taking on considerable weight. "You do know something is very wrong here," she says finally. _The fucking elephant in the room._

Delphine sighs, tugging Cosima closer, gently. _Hold on,_ Cosima thinks, steeling herself.

"Talk to me," Delphine just says.

When Cosima turns to her, she finds her all too close. Licking her lips, she just says, "Why don't we just get to the part where we admit what this is really about?"

Delphine moves in first, hands tugging suddenly upon Cosima's blouse, and all Cosima can think about is, _This cannot be happening._ Not that she does not want it; the truth is, she doesn't remember wanting anything else _harder_.

It's a completely frightening feeling.

(Delphine's lips are soft and warm and somewhat _expected_ , and Cosima knows she shouldn't find this familiar, but she does.)

*

6 | delphine

Delphine kisses Cosima the only way she's known how -- careful and afraid; heart-in-throat.

*

Watching Cosima sleeping in the front seat, Delphine thinks about do-overs and first times, remembering Cosima's old room all too fondly _. Why did I ever think I deserve a clean slate_ , she wonders.

That clean slate had been the main attraction. Cosima had said, _Fuck this all, let's forget._ And by all, Cosima meant all -- it meant Alison. It meant Sarah. It meant Helena and Beth and the German, all the other dead clones. It meant Leekie, the Neolutionists, the entire deal. Felix and Kira and Mrs S. 324B21.

It meant _Delphine._ "But I _know_ you," was what Cosima had said, reading the silent question off Delphine's face that time. "I bet I could do this over and over, and still remember you."

 _Still._ Going back to that conversation now takes all the air from Delphine's lungs, and she tries not to cry out loud for fear of waking her. _Oh, Cosima. Have you no idea how brittle our brains could become?_

That morning they sat inside Mierzwiak's office, reading flyers like they were just going in for a dental check-up and not having their brains restarted. Cosima was convincing her to get wiped as well. "Let’s start over," Cosima said. "Don't you have bad memories too?"

Mierzwiak talked to each of them in private, leading them into an interrogation room one after the other. It was bare save for a table and a pair chairs right in the middle, white walls all around.

Delphine went first. As expected, Mierzwiak was hesitant about granting Delphine's request. "I don't want to touch the thoughts in your head," he said. "Please reconsider."

“I’m doing this for Cosima,” she insisted. “It’s for the best.”

Mierzwiak leaned closer to her, hands clasped over the table. He eyed her like a father, and it almost hurt, somewhat. “You’re one of Dr Leekie’s best, Dr Cormier. It wouldn’t be advisable—I couldn’t possibly _tamper_ with all that _knowledge._ ”

“And what about Cosima?”

Mierzwiak raised a brow, but only very faintly. “What _about_ Cosima?” And then, “I will operate on her upon your recommendation, but I will not operate on _you_ upon yours. Do you understand?”

Delphine bit her lip. She knew dead ends like this all too well. “ _Albert,_ ” she sighed, burying her face in her palms.

“Be the anchor, Delphine,” he said, looking at her levelly. It sent a proper chill down her spine. “Someone should be.” Delphine knew what he was saying; she’d been hoping against it, but then again, there was really no escaping the whole thing entirely, was there?

“You wouldn’t tell him, would you?”

Mierzwiak sighed, pushing a small white card across the table toward her. “Of course not,” he said. “And if you ever need help -- _please_.”

Delphine thanked him curtly, quietly picking the card off the table before leaving. It bore a woman’s name that was only slightly familiar. _I’ll deal with you later,_ Delphine thought, tucking it in her back pocket.

When Cosima met her upon exiting Mierzwiak’s door, she had this nervous smile on. “Everything okay?” Cosima looked so hopeful, it made Delphine want to cry.

“Yes, of course,” said Delphine, rubbing at Cosima’s shoulder. The words pierced through her chest like shards and knives. _This is not the first lie,_ she thought. _And it will surely not be the last._

*

Cosima stirs in her seat as Delphine slows to a stop. Night has fallen throughout their drive from the bluff to here, and Delphine is down to her last cigarette. _A journey well-timed, in all,_ she thinks idly.

"Where are we?" asks Cosima, voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

Delphine sighs, smiling as she looks away. Like this, Cosima looks so small and young. "Home,” she replies, pulling at her seat belt. “Come on," she says softly, urging Cosima out of hers.

And it all feels… _couple-y,_ and it’s completely unintentional. Delphine finds herself smoothing Cosima’s top and tucking a stray strand of hair, before getting out of the car and heading to her gate. It occurs to her, how they’d actually never been in this apartment – this wasn’t in the _personality_ that was in force, not really.

It takes Delphine three tries before getting the right key. “Merde,” she whispers softly on the third try, letting out a small laugh of relief when it finally goes through.

“Please tell me my forgetfulness isn’t contagious,” Cosima teases as she steps in.

 _Ah, if only._ Delphine smiles, dropping her keys onto the table nearest the door. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Delphine is leaning against the side of the refrigerator when Cosima catches up with her, steadying her hands upon Delphine’s hips. “Now, where were we?” Cosima asks, pressed warmly against Delphine’s body, that smile on her face. Her lips hover closely – close enough for Delphine to see her reflection in Cosima’s eyes.

 _How far have you forgotten,_ Delphine wonders, stroking the side of Cosima’s face. The way Cosima presses her cheek into Delphine’s palm almost burns a hole into the hand. _Have you forgotten enough to put us on equal footing?_

Delphine lets Cosima move in first, this time; the way Cosima nips tentatively at her bottom lip tells her volumes. _Ah,_ Delphine thinks, smiling against the kiss. _So here we are._

“Why are you smiling?” asks Cosima, pressing her forehead against Delphine’s. “Am I doing it wrong?”

Delphine licks at her lower lip. “Tell me something,” she begins. “Have you kissed a woman before?”

Cosima takes a moment to respond; the quiet gap is filled with the sound of heartbeats. “No one like you,” is what she says, leaning in closer again. Her breath is ticklish upon the corner of Delphine’s lips. “Nothing like this.”

 _No one and nothing,_ Delphine repeats in her head, closing the gap between. She parts Cosima’s mouth with her tongue, relishing the warmth there, pulling her in closer.

 _Cosima made new,_ she just thinks, sliding her hand under Cosima’s shirt.

*

Truth be told, Delphine hasn't planned this far; she'd been so preoccupied and anxious about _failure_ that she totally hadn’t considered a success scenario.  

 _Yet here we are._ Cosima wraps her arms around Delphine tighter, perhaps sensing the sigh coming on. “You all right?” asks Cosima.

 _No, no tears,_ Delphine reminds herself. _Once was enough._ She pushes herself up on her elbow, looking down at Cosima, who looks back at her with hope. “Are you?” Delphine asks back.

“Yeah,” she says, breathing in. Just like that the moment’s hopefulness is gone; the ease in which Cosima closes down and becomes _unreadable_ throws Delphine, but she tries not to let it show. After a quiet while, Cosima continues with, “Would you care for some ice cream?”

In the end, Delphine is unable to stop herself from laughing. _Some things are just so hard to take out, aren’t they?_ “Sorry,” she says, laughing into the back of her hand. “It’s just—” _You remind me of someone,_ she nearly blurts out, but she bites down on her lip instead. “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” says Cosima, smiling now, hand on Delphine’s chest. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Delphine teases. It baffles her, how this shifts between tense and easy so quickly.

“Well, about that ice cream…”

Delphine places a quick peck upon Cosima’s cheek, and Cosima blushes so prettily that Delphine’s chest aches. “ _After_ ice cream,” says Delphine, starting to move away from Cosima. Outside, the night is clear, crisp and quiet. Delphine reaches for the blouse she’d thrown on the floor a few moments back and shrugs it on, watching Cosima watching her.

“Where are you going?” Cosima asks.

“You’re my guest,” Delphine smiles. “I’m getting you ice cream.”

“Oh,” says Cosima, smiling herself, wrapping the sheet tighter around her body. _She’s naked under those sheets,_ Delphine thinks, trying to get her buttons right despite her shaky fingers. _What am I even doing here?_

She smiles at Cosima one last time before heading out. In her head, she is back at Cosima’s room and rifling through her files. She has never been proud of that moment; not a day passes that a part of her does not regret it, somewhat. _All of it just a means to an end._

_This end._

Delphine wonders what Cosima’s doing now; if she’s also tempted to explore. Rooms are interesting things after all; they tell more stories about people than their clothes, most times.

She has none of these worries now, though. This room is clean; the things she’s had to hide, they’re in another apartment entirely, as this is technically another life.

Or so she likes to think.

 _What am I even doing here,_ she asks herself, turning the corner to walk toward the convenience store. Delphine is thinking about Eskimo pies and cigarettes when her phone buzzes in her pocket.

“Albert,” she sighs into the receiver, leaning against the store window. “What have we done?”

*

Albert begins with, “Aldous knows.” Delphine stomach drops at that, and this sudden void in her midsection starts pulsing with dread. “We haven’t spoken, but I—I _know_ him. And I’m sure you do, too.”

“ _Merde_ ,” Delphine mutters, pinning her phone against her shoulder, unwrapping a fresh pack of cigarettes.

“How is your friend?”

Delphine takes a hit from her newly lit cigarette before exhaling, her sigh long and heavy. “Well, for starters, she doesn’t recognize me,” she replies, trying a dry laugh to go along with it. “This is a good thing, I suppose."

In her head, she sees Albert pacing and nodding. “That’s actually a good sign,” he says. His voice is calm – like he hadn’t started this conversation with _Aldous knows._ “And her coughing?”

Delphine winces at the reminder. “Nothing too alarming,” she says, trying to make light of it. She knows sooner or later they’d have to deal with that. “But what about Leekie?”

“He’ll come for me first,” he says. “And I’ll see what I can do from there.” Delphine recognizes the slight tremor in his voice. _He is terrified._ “There is a boy who keeps looking for you, though. We have noticed him circling your old apartment.” There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, and Delphine’s mind starts racing. “ _Felix Dawkins._ I remember Cosima mentioned him in relation to Sarah Manning.”

Delphine sighs, rubbing at her face. “Oh _Felix,_ ” she mutters, dropping her cigarette. “Has he made contact?”

“I think he’s seen the card we sent out, but no, no formal contact. We’re keeping an eye on him, just in case.”

“Thank you, Dr Mierzwiak.” Delphine tries hard to feel relieved – at least, somewhere, there’s a safety net of sorts. “Will you call me when Leekie comes for us?”

“I have to go,” Mierzwiak says instead. The line goes dead.

*

7 | cosima

Cosima is sitting on the living room couch, flipping through old French magazines when Delphine knocks at the door. Cosima stands to answer it, and upon opening, she is struck again by a heavy-handed sort of déjà vu. _I know I’ve never been here before,_ she thinks, eyeing Delphine, who stands at the door step for a moment, hugging a huge brown bag in her arms. _But this—this is something, all right._

“May I come in?” asks Delphine coyly.

“You’re impossible,” Cosima says. She laughs as she steps aside and Delphine goes right past her, taking her loot to the kitchen. _The things this could be,_ is what Cosima thinks about, mostly.

It’s a quiet sort of domesticity that, to Cosima, feels very comfortable. _Safe._ “Hey Delphine,” she calls from the door, and Delphine turns around to catch her eye.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” Cosima sighs, leaning against the closed door behind her. She’s thinking about the surreality of this day; how it doesn’t seem to be connected to the rest of the days that have come before. _Something’s very wrong here,_ she repeats in her head.

Delphine bites down at her lip and waves her over, seemingly oblivious to her thoughts. “Come, the ice cream’s melting.”

 _Good job, Cosima,_ she tells herself, approaching the table with a smile. Delphine hands her a spoon and opens the pint between them on the kitchen counter. She looks back at Delphine expectantly, like she’s waiting for instructions.

“So,” Cosima begins.

“So?” Delphine digs in first, and Cosima cannot take her eyes away from the sight of her grinning right at her over the counter, in the middle of her kitchen. _Who is this woman, exactly? Why does it all feel this way – like she’s turning me inside out?_

“Can I ask you something?” Cosima asks, digging in herself, tentative. Delphine leans in closer to signify her attention. "Do you feel that?”

“That?” asks Delphine, toying with her spoon.

“It’s--It's a connection," Cosima tries explaining, her spoon-free hand in the air. _I mean seriously,_ she thinks quietly. _Not even 24 hours and already I'm kissing you on the hood of your car._ "I feel like... You ever believe reincarnation and many lives? I feel like you were in one of them, you know? Maybe you were…"

"An artist," Delphine offers. "And you were my muse."

Cosima feels herself blushing. "How very Renaissance of you."

"And in that lifetime, I must have spent my days drawing you all the time – as you stood by windows, as you read outside in the sun,” Delphine continues. “As you slept.”

“Delphine.”

“Maybe we were lovers,” says Delphine. “Maybe we traveled a lot on trains, or walked around cobbled streets, popped in and out of museums.”

“Delphine.”

“Or maybe we were partners in crime.” Delphine looks at her levelly, eyes narrowed like they were planning this huge conspiracy. “Maybe you were good with guns.”

“Oh,” says Cosima, reaching over and pulling her in finally. “You are too much all at once,” she says against Delphine’s lips. Delphine kisses her in brief bursts; her tongue is vanilla-sweet and the mix of cold and warmth in their mouth is startling.

Delphine nips at her lower lip like she _knows_ things Cosima doesn’t, and just the hint of that blows Cosima’s mind. “Or maybe this is all new,” says Delphine, cradling Cosima’s face in her cold hands. Cosima shivers under her touch, and Delphine laughs at the sight of her trembling. “Maybe we’re really just two people meeting for the first time – no histories, no other lifetimes. Just this.”

Cosima nods. “There’s that.” _But still, so many questions._

“So, which possibility do you prefer, Cosima?” Delphine rubs at Cosima’s cheek with a cold thumb that gradually gets warmer against her skin.

“The one that doesn’t end,” is what Cosima says, eventually.

*

After ice cream, Cosima finds herself lying down on the sofa, her head on Delphine’s lap and Delphine’s fingers running through her hair. All of it feels so lazy and _dream-_ like that Cosima has to close her eyes, idly humming something under her breath.

“Tell me about what you really do,” says Cosima after a while, breaking the silence, finally. She feels Delphine light a cigarette before answering.

“Nothing exciting,” she sighs. When Cosima opens one eye warily, she sees Delphine offering the cigarette to her, fingers hovering near her lips. “I’m still trying to figure things out.”

“Bullshit,” says Cosima, lifting her head slightly to meet Delphine’s offered cigarette. The pads of her fingers are warm against Cosima’s lips. She tilts her head back to exhale, eyes half-lidded. “You’re probably a genius.”

Delphine laughs. “Do I look like one?”

“I have strange standards.”

“Sorry to disappoint, then,” says Delphine. “I’m just another over-nicotined wandering soul.”

“Whatever you say,” Cosima replies, pushing herself up to meet Delphine in a smoky kiss, licking her lips after and relishing the mix of vanilla and cigarettes in their mouths. “I dreamt of you, you know. When you were gone.”

“Oh?” Delphine quirks her brow at that, taking a lazy drag off the cigarette. “What was I doing there?”

“You were talking to, like, seven versions of me,” says Cosima, at which point she _swears_ she sees a flash of _something_ in Delphine's eyes; something that resembles _fear_ , perhaps. _That doesn’t make sense, Niehaus._ “They all spoke different languages, and you were a spy.”

“A spy?” asks Delphine breathlessly.

“A _spy,_ ” Cosima insists. “You wore this beautiful dress. And you showed me your gun.”

Delphine shrugs, a little laugh to go with it. “A fashionable gun-toting spy,” she just says. “I envy this cool version of me you dreamed up.”

“And in my dream, we were running and running and running,” Cosima continues quietly, her heart racing slightly again. Her chest hurts, just remembering all the breath she’s had to catch, the burn in her legs. “And then I was coughing, and then there was blood on my hands—”

“Cosima.” Delphine crushes the cigarette against the ashtray on the table before wrapping her back into a hug, and it is only then that Cosima realizes she’s been trembling all along. “It’s just a dream.”

“Is it?”

Delphine doesn’t answer; just keeps rubbing her back, huge warm circles going ‘round and ‘round.

*

8 | delphine

Delphine watches Cosima sleeping, and she knows that _she knows. Surely we hadn’t expected Cosima’s brain to roll over and just let us overwrite it?_ She sighs, rubbing at her face with her hands. _We have to get out in the morning,_ she tells herself, turning her cell phone over in her hand, thinking about Albert and Aldous.

 _Fucking Leekie,_ she sighs. _It all goes back to you, Aldous._

Delphine remembers that day Cosima got the laboratory results; remembers holding her through the sobs. _Two years tops,_ was what the doctor said, and at the outset, Cosima had already been quite resigned – like she’d seen this coming from a mile away, and could now no longer evade it.

“If you had a year to do whatever you want,” was what Delphine asked, after. “What would it be?”

Cosima didn’t even blink. “I’ll get the fuck away from here and forget everything,” was how she answered, her voice hoarse and breaking. And then, extra softly: “Would you do that for me, Delphine?”

“Anything,” Delphine had said. “Everything, Cosima.”

 _Everything._ The word echoes now in Delphine’s head. Sitting here in the dark of this room with a half-filled duffle bag at her feet, Delphine runs through her choices: A deserted cabin in the woods? Holing up in a motel far away from here? Fake passports for extremely dire measures?

If it were completely up to her, she’d be following Cosima around for longer, trying to figure her out -- like a real, legitimate shot at a do-over. Difficulties aside, Delphine somewhat enjoys this, being in the dark about a person, and not knowing a ton of things beforehand from half-done fact sheets and old reports.

Of course, Delphine knows – None of this is right, nor will any of it ever be. After all, in what universe is it okay to reset somebody’s head? _I’m sorry, Cosima. I thought I could fix this._ She thinks about Leekie and how he could be waking in a few hours and be on his way to Albert’s—

 _Merde._ Delphine feels for the gun she’s tucked under her shirt -- cold and small and not the least bit comforting. _But if it has to come to this._

“Delphine?”

“It’s still early,” she replies, pulling the gun out and pushing it into her bag and under her clothes. “Won’t be a few hours until we leave.”

Cosima inhales, that sleepy intake of breath, long and steady. Delphine pushes herself off the chair and onto the bed, sliding in beside Cosima and aligning their hips.

“Good,” says Cosima. “We have time.”

Delphine finds herself smiling at that, burrowing her face into the crook of Cosima’s neck. “Time. Of course.”

There’s a quiet while before Cosima shifts to her side, facing Delphine now, their noses centimeters apart. “You were in my dream again,” she’s saying sleepily, and Delphine keeps her eyes wide open. “We were running with bottles of wine. We were laughing like we were getting away with something.”

Delphine smiles, planting a soft kiss upon Cosima’s nose. “We can do that,” she says, rubbing Cosima’s shoulder. “We have time.”

“Of course,” Cosima just says, before falling back to sleep, arm around Delphine’s waist pulling her in.

After a while, Delphine tries to close her eyes herself. Maybe she’ll start dreaming, too.

Maybe it will be a good one. #


End file.
